A/N Shamelessly shippy and slightly OOC; deal with it. Also, we're friggin' HALFWAY THROUGH. WOOT. Hopefully the second half will be posted much faster than the first, if I can ever get the hang of that whole 'daily update' concept...
Thanks to johnsarmylady
Disclaimer I don't own Sherlock or any associated characters, events, etc.
L. Breaking the Rules
Sherlock's not sure whether or not Lestrade and the rest know about the 'relationship' that he and John are in at this point—he's never said anything about it himself, and if John has, he hasn't considered it worth the space in his memory that it would take up. He doesn't particularly care whether or not the police are aware of the now-official partnership of him and his blogger, anyways. It's not as if it's their concern, and Lestrade himself would probably just let it go without a second thought. (Donovan and Anderson, on the other hand, might do a little more to express their probable disgust. Still; not as though he cares.)
But the fact remains that they keep their connection relatively toned-down, in any case. Kissing, for example, is strictly limited to the flat, and John seems vaguely embarrassed by even so much as a handhold in public, though Sherlock can't bring himself to care what the Yarders think. Still, the former army doctor is sure to remind him constantly that just because they've decided to accept a more romantic connection between themselves doesn't mean that they have to display it bluntly to the public.
It irritates Sherlock sometimes, though—until, one day, he finally breaks. It's Anderson that sparks his frustration, naturally. When isn't it Anderson? The dark-haired forensic worker is commenting on Sherlock's own social awkwardness, the words both a thousand times more offensive and more laughable when voiced in his nasally, grating tone.
"It's no wonder he doesn't have any real friends," he's whining to Donovan, and it's far from quiet. "Just that Watson who follows him around like a puppy dog… still doesn't know what he's gotten into, I bet, still thinks that Holmes is a genius and doesn't realize that he's also a heartless—"
That's it. Fury sparking in his veins, Sherlock reaches out suddenly, grabs John by the shoulders and pulls him close before the shorter man has time to do more than yelp in surprise. He carefully positions his gloved hand other John's chin and tilts it upwards, crushing their lips together and grinning against his partner's surprised mouth as Anderson's drawl cuts off abruptly. How's that for heartless? he thinks gloatingly, drawing out the kiss for a long moment before lifting his head again. But he still wraps his arms possessively around John's shoulders, tilts his head so that he can press his cheek comfortably into the top of the blonde-haired head.
"What the hell are you doing?" John demands, but he sounds more fond than annoyed. Sherlock just lets out a low chuckle in response, squeezing John's shoulders tighter as his gaze finds Anderson. The greasy-haired man's already fishlike face is parted in a blatant jaw-drop, further heightening his resemblance to some underwater creature, and Sherlock lets out a low purr of delight into John's hair, rather pleased with himself.
"Alright, you child," John mutters gruffly, detaching himself. "Isn't there something you're supposed to be investigating, here?"
